André Svensson of Salon "Ace of Spades" (Oskarshamn, Sweden) made the final and painful touch on this onion tattoo. I was asked to do the original (by someone who, obviously, doesn't hate onions) and this was the version eventually settled for:
The final result didn't stray too far away, despite the natural difficulty to satisfyingly reproduce round shapes on arms (that are somewhat but far from perfectly cylindrical -- a common issue when it comes to etchings on human bodies, or so I'm told). Well done, I'd say:
It might amuse you to see one of the other sketches -- as an alternative to fully filled versions I also proposed a more minimalistic thing, also in red and black. (These two pigments are supposed to keep better in skin than others.) But the lady that is now sporting said vegetable -- for something like forever -- found the one with the slice more interesting, and I sort of agree.
As for myself, I'm not tempted. I draw stuff. My works are to be spread wide and far like dandelion seeds (preferably without me blossoming for free, artists have needs just like flowers do) -- they are not to stay with me. Or on me.
I don't know what this is yet.
It is lines, pencil lines on paper, of that I'm sure.
A closer look:
It doesn't bring me much clarity. Some sort of r.p.m. meter, some sort of dial, definitely some sort of stress. That's all that I get.
Since the workload of Yours Sincerely has been rather heavy (perhaps you noticed the absence of this last week's Paintistakingly) I present you with this Exhaustment Monument -- a sketch, but nonetheless:
With a bunch of onlookers too.
The life of a freelancer is an irregular one, going from pining for assignments in one moment to pining for rest in the next. Hopefully this week is to be calmer and bloggier. (Yes, my daft spelling control accepted "bloggier". But "exhaustment" was entered under protest.)
As the title says, inspired by the charmingly twisted souls (if yet not the gymslips) of S:t Trinian's little delinquents. (I find the contrast between school uniforms and strictly un-uniform content fascinating.)
I happened to want something as a cover for the little songbook (containing a round two dozen songs that I've written during the past years) that I've recently compiled, it's somehow Trinian in spirit; many of them wry protest ditties and the like. And a good friend and excellent singer might very well record some of these somewhat anarchic works; something that I've wanted for a long time.
I think it turned out rather well?
I hope that Searle would've approved.
